


(Put Your Money) Where Your Mouth Is

by rw_eaden



Series: Sex Like it's a Competition [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Boy Dean, Bottom Dean, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punk Castiel, Rimming, Top Castiel, very briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's a challenge, but either way Dean finds himself in the laundry room of graduation party at the mercy of Cas Novak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Put Your Money) Where Your Mouth Is

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Destiel Smut Brigade Bing. Free space is tattoos.

 

It didn’t matter that Dean himself wasn’t graduating, graduation parties were for getting drunk and that’s exactly what he planned on doing. His buddy Ash had finally made it through whatever tech degree he’d been trying to finish for the past few years, so that was a cause for celebration in and of itself. It wasn’t that Ash wasn’t smart, no, the man was a Mensa level genius, he just had a habit of showing up to classes hungover, if at all and arguing with professors.

Dean had already plowed his way through about five shots, two of which had been in raspberry Jell-O when he spotted the guy. Castiel Novak. There was a grade A asshole if Dean had ever seen one. The guy was leaning over in the corner of the room, lips wound tight, swirling his solo cup while he glared at the rest of the people in the room. He’d had a few classes with Novak over the years and none of them were pleasant. He’d spent the better part of their environmental science lab lamenting about either the inevitable heat death of the universe or global warming, which was damn depressing. In American literature, they’d spent several class periods arguing other over authors and themes. Most of the time it was just heated debates about characterization and symbolism, most of which Professor Mosley entertained. That was, until one day when Novak decided to call Hemmingway a pompous alcoholic and insisted that Fitzgerald was a better writer. Dean wasn’t going to have that and fired back, calling Fitzgerald an entitled, self-important whiner. Then Novak brought Vonnegut into it and Dean nearly vaulted over the table that separated them. Thankfully it didn’t come to blows.

What made it all worse was that Novak had this stupid ass punk thing going on, pierced eyebrow, ears, probably even his tongue but Dean hadn’t seen it. Tonight the dude was in a dumb black leather jacket, combat boots, and eyeliner of all things. Someone really needed to tell this guy that the whole rebel thing was better left in high school. But he did have nice tattoos. He’d seen a few of them peaking from underneath the collars of his shirts and the long sleeves of his jacket but he’d never been able to make out much more than the strange block lettering on his chest and soft, gray curls around his wrists.

Dean ignored the guy for another hour, in favor of flirting with the cute blonde woman standing by Ash’s vintage pinball machine. Things seemed to be going pretty well, judging by the way she was leaning into his space and twirling her long, spiral curls around her fingers. That was until another woman came over, draping herself over the shoulder of the blonde, slurring heavily and babbling through sobs. The blonde, Sally was her name, apologized and took her friend home. Dean understood, the needs of sad, drunk friends came before hook-ups. Of course, that left him with a problem because now it was just after midnight and most people were either paired off already or too drunk to function.

Dean walked back towards the snack table, plucking the last remaining intact pretzels from a bowl and popping them in his mouth.

“Struck out?” Novak’s voice came from behind him. He was leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Looks like you didn’t do any better.”

Novak smirked, “If I cared to try I would’ve succeeded.”

“Oh, sure, I bet you’re just the regular lady’s man. Chicks dig a dude you can give them make-up advice.”

Novak’s heavy gaze drifted across Dean’s frame, his lips still pulled in a tight smirk. “Ladies, gentlemen, anyone in between. If I wanted, I could have anyone in this room.”

“That so?” Dean was faintly aware that he was also smirking, his lips pulling up in a tight, flirty grin all on their own. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps he just really wanted to fuck with Novak.

“Absolutely.” Novak’s eyes settled on Dean’s waist, rolling his tongue and catching a single silver ball between his teeth.

“Right,” Dean shook his head, “’cause you’ve done such a good job mingling. Have you left that wall at all tonight?”

“Like I said, I could have anyone if I wanted to. Even you.” Novak shrugged, still teasing his tongue piercing between his teeth. It was more than a little distracting, and caused a low-level warmth to blossom under Dean’s skin.

“Oh, you think so?” Dean was leaning just slightly over the snack table, staring at the man still leaning against the wall, teasing his tongue piercing between his teeth.

“I know it.” Novak was smirking again, his eyebrow quirked up and a dangerous little glimmer in his eyes.

“Well, I hate to break it to you Cas – “

“Oh, let me guess. You don’t swing that way? You’re straight as an arrow? Cause I’m looking right at you and you might wanna wipe the drool off your chin before you even try to tell me that you’re not into dick.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but the words came tumbling out of his mouth before Dean had the chance to think about them, “Actually I was gonna say you couldn’t handle me even if you tried.”

Dean had been with guys before, just not as many times as he’d been with women. And he’d never had any complaints about his performance. Well, except for that one time with a guy named Nick, but he was seventeen and a virgin, but still it wasn’t like they didn’t have fun. Still, he was not expecting to tempt Cas.

“Oh, you think _I’m_ the one who won’t be able to handle _you_?” Cas practically leaped off the wall, pressing his palms to the table and hovering just out of Dean’s space.

“I know it.”

The pupils of Cas’s eyes expanded, darkening his eyes. His features sharpened, and his lips were pulled into a tight line. “Well then Winchester, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?” His gaze darted just once down to Dean’s lips.

Dean licked his lips, pulling the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. He breathed in the spicy scent of Cas’s cologne, edging closer to his over the table. The dude was a cocky, pissy, asshole, so what did he really have to lose?

“Your place or mine, sweetheart?” Dean asked, flashing a toothy smile.

Cas strode around the table and grabbed Dean by the wrist, nearly jerking his arm out of socket when he sped down one of the hallways, tugging Dean behind him. Cas threw open the first door on the left, the laundry room, and shoved Dean in front of him. He slammed the door shut and pulled Dean into him by the collar of his shirt. They tumbled backward until Cas crashed against the door with a thump. His slender fingers made their way up to the nape of Dean’s neck and Dean was pulled forward until their lips touched.

Cas’s lips were like silk against his own, soft and supple as they alone pulled him closer. He chased the whiskey taste of Cas’s mouth, parting his lips and searching with his tongue. Cas responded by catching Dean’s tongue between his teeth, biting lightly as he ran his fingers up through the short hair at the base of Dean’s neck. He groaned at the bite and Cas released his tongue, surging back for Dean’s lips and thrusting his tongue past them. Their tongues danced around each other, pulling back and forth as they invaded each other’s mouths. Cas’s tongue piercing nudged against the roof of Dean’s mouth, which was odd but not unpleasant.

They broke apart, puffing hot breaths against each other’s lips. Dean’s eyes were shut but he could feel the mischievous smirk Cas wore. One of his strong hands trailed down his chest, stopping at the waist of Dean’s jeans. He dipped a single finger below the waistband, teasing as he ran his nails over the skin of Dean’s stomach. He inhaled a stuttered breath as Cas’s fingers slid towards his belly button. Cas latched his teeth to Dean’s jaw, nipping at the skin. He moved his lips lower, leaving sloppy kisses against Dean’s neck. Dean struggled to keep his breathing even as Cas’s tongue slid over the sensitive flesh of his Adam’s apple.

“Told you I could have anyone,” Cas whispered.

Dean meant to grumble, but it came out as more of a groan. He wasn’t about to let Cas win. He put one hand to the side of Cas’s face and pulled him off his neck, plunging their lips back together. He tugged at Cas’s bottom lip with his teeth, pulling a soft groan from Cas’s throat. The kiss grew heated again, and just as Cas was about to slip his tongue back into Dean’s mouth he pulled away, just out of reach of Cas’s lips. Cas followed and Dean edged away, still just barely out of reach. Dean wrenched his hand into Cas’s hair, jerking his head to the right and setting his lips to the skin. Cas shudder beneath him as he kitten licked at his neck before biting down. Cas moaned as Dean began sucking a hickey to his neck. Cas jerked him forwards by the hips, bodies flush with each other. Excitement tingled beneath Dean’s skin as he nudged Cas’s legs apart with his foot, slotting his thigh between Cas’s. His hips jerked forward and Dean moaned soft and low in his throat.

He stopped sucking at the warm skin on Cas’s neck, nosing against the blossoming bruise he created. “Yeah, I don’t think this is working out,” he said, pulling away.

“What?” Cas’s eyes fluttered open. His breath came out heavy and shaky through plump, parted lips.

“I said,” Dean, trailing his fingers down Cas’s hip, “I don’t think this is gonna work out. I’m pretty sure I’m not your type anyway. Sorry.” Dean pulled his hands away from Cas, smirking.

Cas was glaring at him, his shoulders low like a jungle cat ready to pounce. He stalked forward until their chests were a hair’s breadth away. Cas’s gaze danced across Dean’s face, and Dean was too enthralled with the way his huge blue eyes map out his skin. He was too distracted by the heat of Cas’s presence and the way it made his heart pound to do anything when Cas suddenly cupped his erection through his jean’s a squeezed. Dean drew in a sharp breath, his eyes bulging as he groaned. Cas rubbed his palm against Dean’s length without mercy.

“You’re right. This is a complete waste of time.” Cas undid the button on Dean’s jeans then sank down to his knees and pulled the zipper down with his teeth. Dean squirmed.

“Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint,” Dean said as Cas shoved his jeans off his thighs. Cas then nuzzled against his dick, which was still trapped in his boxers. Dean squirmed again, and Cas grabbed his thighs hard enough to bruise.

“You better not, Winchester.” Cas dragged his tongue against the Dean’s length and rose up.

“Dean. Call me Dean,” he shuddered, running his fingers through Cas’s hair. They kissed again, all sloppy tongue and teeth.

Cas bit down on Dean’s neck, just below his ear. Dean failed to contain a whimper. “Having trouble keeping up, Dean?” Cas’s voice was like aged bourbon, and Dean relished the way his name fell off Cas’s tongue.

“Hey, fuck you,” Dean said tugging, shucking Cas’s jacket off his shoulders, then tugged at the hem of Cas’s shirt.

“Oh, you think that’s where this is headed, do you?” Cas chuckled, running his hands up under Dean’s shirt and dragging his nails across the flesh.

“Wha…” Dean’s protests died as soon as Cas’s fingertips brushed across his nipple. Dean groaned and let his head fall to Cas’s shoulder, where he began nipping and sucking while Cas pinched and rubbed his nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

Dean’s shirt came off next and was thrown somewhere towards the corner of the room. Dean made quick work of Cas’s jeans and underwear, glancing down once to see Cas’s cock, hard and flushed red, arching against his stomach. Cas slipped Dean’s underwear down his thighs, then hooked his arms around Dean’s thighs, pulling him upwards. Dean threw his arms around Cas’s neck for balance, and Cas set him against the washing machine. The metal was cold against his bare ass, and he shivered.

Cas smirked and chuckled low in his throat as he removed Dean’s shoes, jeans, and underwear. He trailed wet kisses up the bend of Dean’s legs, the insides of his thighs, his hips, and up to his nipples, all while Dean ran his fingers through Cas’s soft, messy hair. Cas didn’t touch either of their cocks, instead, he was content to drag groans and shudders from Dean by nipping and licking everywhere else on Dean’s body. Dean ran his nails across Cas’s scalp, down his neck, and across his shoulder. Anticipation buzzed beneath Dean’s skin, sending tingles through his thighs and hips. His hips arched upwards, seeking friction, but Cas pulled away, standing just out of his reach.

“Come on man, don’t be a tease,” he whined.

Cas’s eyebrow arched upwards, the ghost of a smirk barely visible on his lips as he bent over, digging through his jacket pocket.

“What are you…”

“Have you ever done this before, Dean?” Cas asked, pulling a condom and a small bottle of lube out of a pocket.

“Yeah, man, I’m not a virgin,” Dean scoffed.

Cas slammed the bottle and the condom down on the washing machine. He hiked Dean’s knees up and pulled him forward until Dean’s ass was mostly hanging off the edge of the washer. Dean leaned back, palms flat against the metal. Cas pressed a single finger against his rim, stroking in soft, circles. Dean let his head fall back. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into the sensations, humming softly.

He jerked forward when he felt the cool, wet metal bud of Cas’s tongue piercing against his rim, nudging inside. “Jesus Christ!” He yelled, his legs slipping and sliding out from under him.

Cas moved away, clutching Dean’s ankles and setting them back up. “You can call me Cas,” he said, ducking back between Dean’s legs.

Dean couldn’t see his face, but he swore Cas was smirking as he continued stroking against his rim with his fingers, his tongue trailing against his thighs.

“Cas, man, come on. You gonna tease me or are you gonna get to it?” Dean groaned.

Cas rose up, uncapping the bottle of lube. The bottle let out a wet squirt as Cas squeezed it, coating three fingers. “You’re a bossy little bottom aren’t you?” Cas said, sliding one knuckle inside Dean.

“Shut up,” Dean sighed.

Cas was quiet after that, working a single finger in and out of Dean’s hole. Dean groaned, watching as the muscles in Cas’s arms flexed. For the first time, he let him take in the sight of Cas’s tattoos. They were all soft black and gray. He had some strange lettering on his chest and soft feathers half way down his arms. His right arm had soft clouds and a pearly gate, probably heaven, while the left arm depicted dark flames and screaming spirits. Dean wanted nothing more than to lean over and trace the fine lines with his tongue, but those thoughts were abandoned when Cas nudged another finger past his rim. Cas picked up the pace then, scissoring his fingers and twisting his wrist. Dean almost squealed when Cas added a third finger. He groaned, resisting the urge to thrust his hips into Cas’s fingers. His thighs were starting to tremble from holding his own weight and want, building up inside him.

“Cas, come on, I’m ready,” he groaned.

“No, I don’t think you are,” Cas said, slowing down his pace.

Dean groaned and threw his head back as Cas passed over a sensitive spot inside him with a feather light touch. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, man.”

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Cas said, pulling his fingers out and massaging Dean’s rim and thighs.

“I swear to God, Cas if you don’t – aaahahah,” Dean let out a high pitched gasp as Cas thrust his fingers back into bit down on the inside of Dean’s thigh at the same time. “You motherfucker,” Dean groaned.

Cas finally pulled out and took the condom from the washer, opening it and sliding it onto his dick. He squirted more lube onto his hand and slicked up his cock, stroking it long and slow. “You ready for this?” He asked.

“No fuckin’ shit, Cas.”

And with that, Cas pulled Dean’s legs around his waist, lining his cock up to Dean’s hole. He thrust in slowly, and Dean let himself fall back against the cool metal, relishing the push and pressure. Cas gave him a moment to adjust before pulling back slightly and rolling his hips. Cas set his hands down flat against the washer, his arms pressing against Dean’s sides. Dean clasped Cas’s wrist, as he continued to roll into him.

He kept a slow pace for a while, the sound of deep, measured breathing the only sound in the room.

“Cas, you can go faster,” Dean said.

And with that, Cas pulled out nearly all the way, then thrust back in sharply, punching a shuddered gasp from Dean’s lungs. He continued driving in fast and shallow until Dean begged him to go harder. Cas then thrust in and out, sharp and hard, leaving Dean groaning and rolling his head.

“Fuck, Cas,” he murmured, wrapping a hand around his dick and stroking in time with Cas’s thrusts. He was vaguely aware that he was bellowing loud moans.

“God, do you hear yourself?” Cas groaned.

Dean nodded. He was breathing too hard to respond with words.

“Fuuuck,” Cas moaned, digging his nails into Dean’s hips. His thrusts were starting to stammer.

Dean’s own release was rapidly approaching, starting as a tightness in his thighs and lower stomach.

“You’re gonna come like this? With me railing your ass?” Cas’s was breathless, his voice impossibly low.

Dean nodded again, biting his lip in an attempt to keep quiet, but it was no use. The hand he was using to stroke his cock was stuttering, sliding up and down in a haphazard rhythm.

“Do it. Let go,” Cas said, slamming in while pulling Dean into him by his hips.

Dean nearly screamed as his release hit him and he painted his chest and stomach. Cas wasn’t far behind, dragging Dean to meet him three more times before he groaned and his body went ridged. The two of them stayed panting for a while, Cas with his head rested against Dean’s hip.

Once their breathing evened out Cas pulled out and removed the condom, trying it off and tossing it into the wastebasket in the corner of the laundry room.

“Fuck,” Dean sighed.

“I told you, I could have anyone I wanted,” Cas said, pulling his underwear back up his legs.

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

Cas shrugged.

“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”

Cas raised an eyebrow and handed Dean one of the towels draped over the dryer. “Are you always this pissy post-orgasm?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Bite me.”

Cas leaned over and nipped at Dean’s hip. Dean grumbled to cover his groan.

“You know, I think you are,” Cas said, “it seems like a worthy hypothesis to test.”

“Wha – “

“What do you say we test my theory in say, thirty minutes or so?” Cas’s eyes held a devilish glimmer as he spoke.

Dean snorted. “You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> This work is now part of a series.   
> [Click here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7665751) to read the next installment, now with 100% more blow jobs and 100% more Bottom!Cas. (Team Switch Forever!)


End file.
